


can i be your memory

by cakecakecake



Category: Nova Lux (D&D)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakecakecake/pseuds/cakecakecake
Summary: no matter what he tells her in the morning, she wants to remember this.
Relationships: Almena/Valzuin
Kudos: 2





	can i be your memory

Nova Lux happens upon a beach. 

Throats parched and stomachs growling, the party looks to each other for admission. With the evening hours creeping up quickly and a wide, seemingly endless stretch of sand before them, they agree to set up camp for the night. It doesn’t take long to unpack and get comfortable, and they’re content to enjoy the breathtaking scenery while their journey takes a pause.

A few of them take to hunting for dinner or gathering kindle for the night’s fire, but Almena is quick to kick off her boots and vanish from the group for a few stolen moments of tranquil along the shore. 

Streaks of rose and gold paint across the vast, dusky sky and Mena breathes in the crisp, blustering breeze, bits of leaves catching in her coal-brown cascade of curls. She smiles, lungs expanding with the atmosphere as she lifts her gaze heavenward, watching as a few clusters of stars start to peek out from behind the thinning clouds. The amber glow of the setting sun casts magnificent shadows in the sand and Mena buries her feet in it, coarse and cool. She edges closer to the water, soothing waves crashing at her feet, foam bubbling around them. She can’t remember the last time she felt something like this. 

Gathering her cape around her shoulders, Mena settles to sit on a log just barely in sight of the tents. Faintly, she can hear Holly and Lydia discussing the library, guess-timating how long they’ll have to travel come morning to reach it. Mena sighs. She doesn’t want to think of how tired she is, so she focuses instead on the sunset, reflecting on the previous night’s discussion. 

What is it about not knowing so much about Valzuin that makes her so uneasy? If uneasy is even the right term, she wonders. She’s curious, intrigued, if anything, and how could she not be? He’s mysterious and rugged and _very_ handsome. The not-knowing part is as exciting as it is frustrating, and even then, isn’t it a problem of her own for not being bold enough to approach him on a more intimate level? She groans at herself -- _intimate_. She picks up a rock and tosses it into the water.

“Here you are."

Mena gasps, whirling around to meet the eyes of the very last person she’d thought to sneak up behind her, blushing slightly. “Oh, Val, I’m sorry -- I didn’t hear you come up.”

“I promise I wasn’t trying to scare you,” he almost chuckles, towering over her, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I can leave, if you were looking for solitude.”

Waving her hands, Mena shakes her head. “Oh, no, I was just -- enjoying the view.”

“Yes, beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, shading his eyes with his hand. “If you don’t mind…”

Valzuin gestures to the empty space next to her and she chews her lip. “Oh, of course, please.”

He settles beside her and Mena takes careful measure of every inch between them as he stretches his arms above his head, the light catching in his hair, dancing in his eye. He smooths the fringe over his eye patch. “Swen will have dinner ready soon.”

She nods, a little anxious, suddenly shy. Valzuin is not the type to fill silence with unnecessary words, but it’s not often that she has moments alone with him -- it would be a shame to ignore an open window like this. She doesn’t want to be a bother in case he’s not in the mood to talk, though, so she sits in quiet frustration until he finally says something -- 

“Holly believes we’ll have a full day’s travel before reaching the city.”

“Are we leaving first thing in the morning, then?” 

Val sniffles, inhaling sharply through his nostrils before rubbing sand off his trousers. “We won’t rush, but yes, we’ll leave after breakfast.”

He pauses, staring ahead as the sun dips down below the horizon line. Mena glances sideways at him, wringing her hands in her lap. “Have you ever seen the ocean, Val?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve never been until now...I wish it were warm enough to swim.”

Mena laughs nervously, fighting not to think of what muscles he’s hiding under that cape or what rivets of water would look like glistening on his skin. “Oh, I do too. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been swimming.” 

“Do you remember if you’ve been swimming at all?”

Her brow creases and Val huffs out a small chuckle, seemingly embarrassed. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“No, it’s alright,” she insists, already sure that he didn’t mean it like that. “But no, it’s just a matter of when in this case. It’s not as fuzzy in mind as other things.”

The man falls quiet for a beat and she tries not to watch him, so she looks at her hands instead, pulling a loose thread off of her tunic. 

“Mena.”

She snaps her head up at the sound of her own name. “Yes?”

“Are you ever afraid, Mena,” he starts to say, sounding much less like he’s asking a question, but rather posing an idea. She tilts her head, waiting for him -- curious, but patient. He takes a few breaths before he goes on, “Are there times where you ever think...you’d rather _not_ know? You’d rather not remember?”

When Almena had imagined what her first intimate interaction with him would be like, she had not thought of something like this -- but it comes to no surprise that someone as brooding as Valzuin would ask such a thing of her. She turns to face the water, watching as the velvet darkness of the sky washes out the clouds, turning the ocean to midnight as the darkness in the back of her mind swallows her just the same. She thinks of the things she can’t remember, the things she doesn’t know -- of dreams that very well could have been real, she isn’t sure. It makes her head pound. She brings a wrist to her forehead and knits her brows together in a crease. 

“There have been moments like that,” she confesses. “Moments where dreams get mistaken for memories, and I have no way of knowing if something was real or not.”

“And these dreams are...nightmares, are they?”

Mena shifts around, painfully aware of how closely he’s sitting beside her, hip nearly touching hip. She feels vulnerable, in more ways than just the obvious, but she supposes he must be feeling the same way -- she feels her cheeks steaming. Perhaps not in one particular way, of course. She fixates instead on the feeling of her feet buried in the sand, wiggling her toes. It’s grounding. 

“More often than not, yes, they are,” she confirms. “There are some I can think of that aren’t. Some I wouldn’t mind if they actually were memories, and not just figments of my horrid imagination. But yes...most of the time, they are not very happy dreams.”

Mena turns to watch him and he’s not looking at her, fixated instead on the rolling waves against the beach, but she can tell he’s listening intently to what she’s saying. He looks to be uneasy and she feels guilty, so she apologizes, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so melancholy on what should be a nice night like this.”

“Oh, not at all,” he says, smiling weakly. “I asked, after all.” 

Mena makes a noncommittal hum, unsure of what to say next, of what she was hoping he’d tell her. Trying to get Valzuin to open up about anything of importance is much like trying to open a cabinet full of delicate porcelain without allowing any of it to crash down and shatter, and she’s not sure how big a mess she’d make if that were to happen. She sighs. If she were only brave enough to turn the knob, maybe…

“Mena,” he says again, pulling her from her thoughts. She turns to him, watching a weak smile tug at his lips, feeling her own crack across her face. She likes the sound of her own name on his tongue. 

“Tell me about a happy one.”

“A happy dream?” she makes sure.

“If you would.”

Mena leans back on her hands, gazing down at the sand again. “Well, I’ve had one much like this.”

“About the beach?”

“Yes,” she tells him. “I can’t tell what shape I’m in, but I like the feel of the sand under my feet. It’s warm and the sky is clear, and all I can smell is the saltwater. I hear voices behind me and see a city ahead of me, but I’m content to just tread along the shore.” 

“Maybe you were seeing the future,” he says, surprisingly lighthearted, and she has to giggle.

“I don’t know about that, but I’m glad to get to see it all the same,” she says, checking to see if he looks any happier. (He does.) His fingers grace the top of her hand as he shifts and she gasps sharply, yanking it away on reflex. 

“Oh, I’m sorry -- "

“Oh, no I -- "

He takes her hand again, the rough pads of his fingers brushing her knuckles. She has to force herself to look in his eye. 

“I hope I haven’t upset you with all the prying,” he mumbles quietly, his face mere inches from hers, their hands clasped together in what little space separates them. Mena holds his gaze for one hesitant moment before throwing caution to the wind. She leans in closer, tilting her head as her eyes flutter shut, pressing her lips against his in a modest, chaste kiss. 

Valzuin freezes. His mouth is still, unmoving against hers as she hears his breath quiver. Quickly, she pulls away, eyes flying wide open as she pinches her temple. 

“Oh -- oh dear, Valzuin, I -- "

A cold hand reaches to cradle her face, his fingers like ice at the roots of her hair, but it’s not uncomfortable or alarming -- she likes it, likes feeling him there. He parts his mouth as if to say something, but words seem to be as difficult for him as they are for her. Either way, she doesn’t expect him to kiss her again, so she keeps her eyes open, the rugged cloth of his eye patch grazing her lashes. The warmth of his lips are such a stark contrast to his cool skin. She raises a hand to tangle in his starlight hair, threading her fingers through it as she settles enough to kiss him back. 

Their lips part and meet in a series of short, safe kisses, tentative and hesitant. Mena is sure they’re both worried about treading upon the other’s comfort but it’s likely it’s more him than her, so she balls her fist in his hair and sweeps her tongue along his lip, enjoying the groan she coaxes out of him. Val’s hand rests on her neck, her pulse jumping underneath his touch, his other hand still locked in hers. Mena sighs into his mouth, digging her feet further into the sand as if it were her only anchor to this reality, assuring herself that this is not another lost memory -- that when she thinks on this later she can have confidence this moment was real. 

Valzuin tugs at her lip with a gentle bite and Mena stifles a giggle, nipping him back with fervor. They keep kissing, bashfully, enthusiastically, and she tries with all her might to imprint the taste of his mouth in her brain. There are few things in her life that she can’t bear to forget, and no matter what he may tell her in the morning, she wants to remember this. 

Of course he’s the first to pull away, as expected. She’s not disappointed -- relieved, actually, to catch her breath, to realize she hasn’t just been dreaming. He lets go of her neck and hair and she already misses the contact, however cold his touch had been. He coughs his way through an uneasy laugh, like he can’t believe himself.

“S-Sorry, I guess I -- "

Mena shakes her head, smiling, thinking to save them some awkwardness. “Dinner?” 

“Yes, I’m guessing it’s ready by now.” Val smiles, appreciative. He rises quickly, climbing over the log with Mena in tow and to her surprise, he extends his hand for her to hold. She smiles.

She’ll remember this, too.


End file.
